


Consequences

by queenhomeslice



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Established Relationship, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Power Dynamics, Spanking, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 02:51:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21402970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: Lindir made a mistake; he asks his lord for punishment.
Relationships: Elrond Peredhel/Lindir
Comments: 8
Kudos: 75





	Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any related work; all works are copyrighted and belong to J. R. R. Tolkien and the Tolkien estate. I am not making money from this work. 
> 
> ________
> 
> Please be kind; constructive criticism is welcome, as this is my first real Tolkien fic. I hope I did this right. Unbeta'd.

Elrond sits at his desk, still awake after everyone else has gone to bed. He’s writing a letter by candlelight, the sun long gone down past the trees. He’s shed his outer robes, sitting just in a long tunic, breeches, and a thin, gossamer overcoat he wears merely out of ceremony—he's almost forgotten that he has it on. He hears his door click open—there's only one person who could be visiting him at this hour. He tilts his head, listening for the almost imperceptible footsteps of his assistant—feather-light and delicate and sweet, just like the rest of him. 

Elrond looks up as Lindir comes into view, and the young elf bows low; he stays until Elrond speaks. 

“Rise, my Lindir. It is very late.” 

“Yes,” he responds, faint blush spreading to his cheeks. “Forgive my lateness, my lord—I was assisting in the kitchens, making sure things are as they were before this evening’s festivities. I did not mean to delay drawing your bath.” 

Elrond sets his quill down and waves his hand. “I’ve told you many a time, my songbird, that you needn’t distract yourself with such chores.” 

“I cannot help it—you know it is my pleasure to serve you. Your house deserves to be immaculate, and nothing less than perfection should be presented before you.” 

Elrond smiles warmly. Lindir is always too doting, too kind. He spreads his hands, gestures to the younger elf. “There is already perfection being presented before me.” 

Lindir’s breath hitches and he bows his head and looks away. “My-my lord,” he murmurs. “Surely you cannot mean one so lowly as I.” 

“But I do. You work yourself to death on my behalf. If I deserve perfection, you deserve to spend your days doing nothing but lounging in my bed.” 

Lindir starts to sweat beneath his robes. He shakes his head furiously. “Being useful to you is my greatest pleasure,” he assures his lord. “I would serve you till the end of my days, I would follow you across the earth, across the seas...” 

Elrond chuckles. “So you’ve told me many times. My Lindir, look at me.” 

The servant does, not losing the redness of his cheeks. 

“There’s something you’re not telling me.” 

Lindir sucks in a breath—how perceptive his lord is, how attentive and knowing. Lindir’s heart aches with love. “My lord, earlier at dinner, I—I spilled a bit of water while refilling the glasses at your table. I want to apologize, and ask your pardon.” 

Elrond lifts an eyebrow and tries to think of when the ever-careful Lindir sloshed water from the decanter, but he cannot recall the incident. “If I did not heed it, pay it no mind. I am not concerned with such trifles. You attended to me wonderfully at dinner.” 

Lindir shakes his head. “It _did _happen, my lord, but it will not again. Not if you bestow upon me a proper punishment for my failings.” 

Elrond grins a little. It always takes a while for Lindir to say what he wants, and Elrond has had quite a time getting his assistant to speak of his desires. He sits up straighter and leans back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. 

Lindir watches the movement in near rapture, eyeing his legs like a starving man eyes a table of food. 

“And what should your punishment be for this incident? Surely water isn’t a resource we are hurting for—I'm tempted to not punish you at all.” 

Lindir shakes his head. “Please, I beg my lord Elrond. Your servant made a mistake, and should be properly chastised.” 

Elrond smirks wider. “Well, perhaps if my servant’s hand cannot hold a decanter of liquid, it should be removed.” 

Lindir’s eyes go wide but he lifts his right arm out straight, drawing his sleeve up to reveal his delicious, creamy forearm. “My hand is yours, my lord. Take it, if you see fit.” 

Elrond scoffs. “Lindir, you know I am not so cruel.” 

Lindir slowly lowers his hand. “You are not, my lord.” 

“Then what should I do to you?” Elrond can see the gears turning in Lindir’s mind. He’s trying so hard to coax it out of his attendant. 

Lindir swallows, then mutters so quietly, “Perhaps--perhaps I should be spanked for my transgressions.” 

Elrond’s eyes widen. _Spanked_. The intimacy and the debauchery of the action has him reeling inside, but who is he to deny Lindir anything in the world? He uncrosses his legs and pats his lap. “Come, then. If it is my hand you think you deserve, it is my hand you shall receive.” 

Lindir bows low again. “Thank you, my lord. I shall receive my punishment gladly.” 

“I’m sure you will,” Elrond teases, causing Lindir to go red to the tips of his ears. “I think this punishment will have more effect on bare skin. Your breeches will just be a hindrance.” 

Lindir shivers but nods silently, undoing his robes and parting them so that he can unlace his pants. He steps close to his lord and pushes the clothes down to his knees, revealing his already half-hard cock, thin and hairless and perfect. 

Elrond keeps his face neutral as he guides his assistant facedown over his lap. Lindir’s top half hangs limply over one side of his legs; his tight, pert ass centered perfectly on his lord’s lap. His cock hangs behind Elrond’s thigh, rather than between them—he can touch his attendant if he so desires. It’s already so flushed and ready that Elrond has half a mind to forgo this silly roleplay and drag Lindir to bed, but he doesn’t because he knows by now what Lindir needs. 

He touches Lindir’s ass gently, palming over it, relishing in the soft gasps it elicits from below. He keeps his left hand on one soft cheek and raises his right, letting it connect firmly with Lindir’s skin. 

The resounding _slap _isn’t hard, just barely enough to sting, but Lindir moans as though he’s being fucked like an animal on his lord’s bed. He’s so lucky, so spoiled for someone of his station, that he can barely process it. He feels Elrond’s hand come down on his skin again, and then a third time, and suddenly he’s dizzy from the blood loss—it's all rushing from his head to his cock, nestled snugly against his lord’s thigh, pulsating with need. Elrond spanks him over and over, switching hands so that both of his pale cheeks are the same shade of pink. 

Elrond’s hard as diamonds in his trousers from Lindir’s lewd mewls of pleasure as his hand connects with his skin. When his attendant’s ass is pink all over, he stills his hand and leans down to place a tender kiss on his abused ass. Lindir sobs in his lap, his cock leaking all over his lord’s clothes. 

“I think that will teach you,” Elrond says softly. Part of him is afraid that he’s actually hurt his beloved attendant, but the other part of him sees Lindir’s cock and knows better. Lindir will supplicate himself to Elrond in any way, and Elrond is all too eager to meet his songbird’s needs. 

Lindir nods, though Elrond cannot see it. “Thank you, my lord,” he sobs. “You are too kind. It was hardly a punishment—your hand on my skin is more pleasure than I could ever hope for.” 

Elrond smiles and helps Lindir stand, but he does not move to restore his clothes. “Now then, if you are satisfied, my Lindir. I must confess your punishment has had an effect on me as well. Would you care to help me relieve it?” 

Lindir bows again, half naked and delirious with pleasure. “I will do anything my lord requires.” 

Elrond rises and walks to his bed. “Your robes will not be needed, my Lindir.” He pats the sheets. “Come.” 


End file.
